


The Dust in its Wake

by Galanodel_zivah



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Destroy Ending, M/M, Post-Mass Effect 3, Vanguard (Mass Effect)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-13
Updated: 2020-08-13
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:41:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25879081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galanodel_zivah/pseuds/Galanodel_zivah
Summary: A series of interactions between the Normandy crew members after the ending of Mass Effect 3 as they try to return to the Sol system. Third person mostly centered on Kaidan, but perspective shifts to others as well. Some reminiscing both good and bad, some planning, some angst and tempers flaring.
Relationships: Kaidan Alenko/Male Shepard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	The Dust in its Wake

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this originally after I finished ME3 when it originally came out - prior to ending changes, extended endings, and things like the Citadel DLC. Inspired by reading the writing of others in this universe, I pulled this up and edited it a bit again recently and wanted to share it. Thank you for reading!

“Shepard, you really need to stop dying on me.”

The rasp was thick, the voice low from a throat ripped raw. His words were a whisper, a prayer on deaf ears that only echoed off of the Loft’s blank ceiling.

In the past few years, he had seen what the galaxy could call gods. Things that spied on all creatures, that knew your mind and could change its most basic chemistry. Things of metal and blood that spoke only of destruction. Gods of stone given way to ancient artifacts and older peoples. All were lies.

Still he prayed. He spoke to whatever was out there that could not answer. In his dreams, on the good days, he spoke to Shepard.

But there hadn’t been a good day in some time. He hadn’t slept in weeks, not well anyway. While they patched the Normandy up and prepped it to bring them back to Earth from this unknown nook of space, Kaidan did what he could. Each night he returned to his bunk in the crew deck, exhausted enough in body but active still in mind. As the shifts rotated and the sounds of night seeped through the patched hull, he woke what seemed like every minute into a darkness without rest.

No one said anything when he started sleeping in the Commander’s quarters. Regulations didn’t matter here, and protocol was already shot to hell. Despite the cold sheets and the large room, empty but for the models and the silent fish and that ever-present hum, here he felt less alone. Here, he tried to understand – to guess what had happened after Shepard left him behind.

It was the guessing that was driving him mad.

\---

The Shadow Broker set her hands on the cold metal desk, stretching her shoulders as her door hissed shut. The comm light flickered green once it established a connection.

“Liara.” Garrus’ voice acknowledged. They still hadn’t managed to fix that static.

“I’m worried about him.”

“Shepard? Or Kaidan?” 

Liara sighed and pushed herself back to standing. “Well. Both of them. Of course.” She stared up at the wall of black screens before her. Without those screens, the Broker was flying blind. It was odd to be just Liara again. Freeing, but it was at a time where that weighty mantle was needed the most. After fleeing the wave of red that washed through space, it was all any of them, particularly Joker, could do to focus on landing the ship without killing everyone on board.

“He’ll be fine, you know, once we get going,” another voice chimed in. “Kaidan was always the... brooding type.”

Liara paused. “Tali? How did you access this line?”

Silence answered her, but even without all of her agents and her surveillance equipment, that was enough. Liara laughed to herself. 

“Well, then tell Joker we’d better get going soon. Liara out.”

\---

_ A heartbeat. _

_ A gasp for breath. _

_ Every atom screams, and neurons fire along paths of familiar rage. _

_ But there is no battle cry.  _

_ No bursting stream of light. _

_ Just a faint hum. _

\---

“Commander.”

“Commander!”

He woke with a snap. The leftover crackle of the comm filled the room, waiting. He tried to remember the question.

“What?” Kaidan shook his head and pressed a finger against a throbbing temple. Joker’s voice did not go well with morning. Somehow, he missed the spark-lit, even black of deep space.

“Major, if you wanna come up to the CIC, I think we’re ready for launch.”

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and straightened slowly. This was worth it – getting out of bed and getting dressed to start the journey that felt like it had been years in the making.

“I’ll be right there, Joker,” he called, “Don’t start the show without me.”

\---

Who knew where he had stowed a full dress uniform or in what kind of armored container it had survived the crash, but Alenko entered the CIC in style. In Alliance blue, he stood taller than he had in weeks, since those last hours before the final push to the center of London.

A bloody hand on his cheek. A fleeting, desperate kiss goodbye.

He focused on straightening the slight limp in his gait as he strode up the short ramp to the galaxy map display. It was a better shadow to cling to than the memory.

The display was beautiful – the stars danced their slow circle around a galactic core that pulsed with light. How far away those stars seemed now without their connecting webs. Whatever had come behind them had been big, and it shot through the relays causing untold damage. Interstellar travel without the use of relays hadn’t happened in years. It hadn’t been needed, until now. Hopefully, some would be up and working. Enough to get them to Earth.

Out of old practice, he picked out their system – Sol with its shining sun. It would be a long journey, but they would get there in time. 

“You’d better be there, Shepard.” He stared at the tiny rendition of Earth unblinking for a long moment.

Husks, Marauders, twisted forms of every species attacking from all sides. Bodies everywhere, whole and in pieces. Buildings scratched and scarred as if stone and concrete were nothing. Frantic notes left up on consoles for people who would never read them. London and lives in ruins.

“Sir?” Traynor’s subtle throat clearing brought him back to the ship and the crew standing around the display with their eyes on him. He had never been very good at letting things go.

But he nodded, and signaled to Joker at the front of the ship. “Are we ready?”

EDI’s voice answered immediately, echoing through all communications terminals on the ship. Her ship.

“All systems go. Ready for launch.”

Kaidan smiled.

“Then take us home, Mister Moreau.”

“Alright, everybody, hold onto your hats!” Joker’s hands flicked along the translucent orange displays in a frenzied whirl. “Or helmets or…whatever.”

With some worrying rattling, a bit of shaking, and a keen and dizzying split-second sense of vertigo, they were gone. Free of tree branches and wildlife and atmosphere and out into the cold, blissfully empty void of space. Kaidan could swear that he could tell the moment that it happened; that he could breathe easier, though that may simply have been because they were finally underway.

Cheers echoed along the halls from the bay to the loft. They were airborne, and nothing could stop them now.

Toe to heel, Kaidan turned and descended the platform with military precision. His part was done for now, and a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He was not a suitable replacement for the Commander – no one could be. As a leader, a hero, and an exemplar of Victory, Shepard couldn’t be matched. He was the best humanity had to offer – and the best Kaidan had to offer humanity. 

He liked to imagine sometimes that he had had that choice.

He had heard that last red beam sweep the field as the bay doors shut and he listened to the explosions and screams that followed. But Shepard was the best of humanity, of the damned galaxy, and that’s why he made it. That’s why the Crucible must have worked. And that’s why he had to still be alive.

And they would find him.

His face tilted upward, “Keep us steady EDI.” As he turned toward the elevator, he thought of the body lying in the AI core. “Good to hear your voice.”

“Thank you, Major Alenko,” her disembodied voice followed him on the descent to the crew deck. “I have reintegrated fully into the Normandy’s systems, but until now most of my processing power has gone into repairing the ship.”

“Glad we could help.” He leaned back on the railing. “Plans to fix the mobile… you?”

“Already underway.” Was that resolve in her voice? “Jeff has indicated that it is to be a high priority for Admiral Tali’Zorah and Engineer Adams to repair the platform before we reach Earth.”

“Huh. Didn’t know Joker wanted to give the orders around here.”

“He generally would not, but he said that they did not seem to mind. Engineer Donnelly was also eager to assist, but Jeff reminded him that someone needed to mind the FTL drive.”

A corner of his lips quirked upwards. “Sounds like Joker’s jealous.”

“There is a high probability.” The elevator doors sighed open. “If so, it is very…sweet.”

He averted his eyes from the memorial wall and made his way towards the lounge. “Yeah, EDI, I guess it is.”

He needed a drink.

\---

>>>Shadow Broker Console: Access

>>>Biometrics recognized.

>>>Welcome Doctor T’Soni.

No new updates from the network. Still seeking connection.

>>>Shadow Broker Console: Logout

\----

James leaned casually against one of the displays in the forward battery, tree-trunk arms crossed over one another as he watched the turian work half-hidden beneath an internal barrel of the main cannon.

“So we’re in the deep and empty parts of space, no one for light years, and you take the time to play with toys?” He laughed, rolling the knots of his shoulders in a shrug. “I mean, I’m all for the big guns, but it seems kind of pointless, no?”

“Keeps me focused.” Garrus pushed off and rolled out from the underside to come up for air. Sitting up, he considered the worrying flicker in his visor display. “You know, Shepard asked me something like that, back on the -” he stopped, backtracked, “I mean, back while we were busy playing politics around the whole damn galaxy.”

It was a familiar and comfortable conversation he used to have, telling his cohort stories and boasting about his days on the Normandy. When it was another place and another time, he had spoken of those days riding into Hell with fondness, and it was a great way to push forward resolve when spirits faltered. 

He started that story here, the same way of telling of it, before recalling that he was on the Normandy. This was the same ship. It just didn’t feel as much like it these days. The anxiety, the pressing sense of need was still there, but they hadn’t seen anyone in weeks. There was no danger, no adrenaline, no way - or at least only a few ways - to blow off steam. 

Still, it was better than their fight against the Collectors when they had Cerberus and the Illusive Man listening to their every snore. His hands tightened on the edge of the railing, then released with some careful thought.

Vega watched his crewmate’s face, the twitch of his mandibles - it was hard for him to tell when Garrus was angry. He just assumed that there was always a low level of mad in the turian, and Vega was a man who could appreciate a good mad.

“No more politics to play here, man,” arms spread wide, and the compartment seemed even more cramped than it was with that wingspan, “nobody here!

“But I know, Scars. Doesn’t seem like home without the Commander around.” He stood and slapped a hand on the console, making the display hiccup violently. Yet James was smiling. “Still, good that we’ve got the two biggest baddasses in the galaxy on board, yeah?”

That, at least, got a chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah it is.”

\---

With the ever-present night surrounding the traveling ship, it could always be poker night. It was a good time to get out the curses, to poke fun at new gossip, and to trudge out the stories among old friends. A good time, among many times, for Vega to take everyone to the cleaner’s.

Kaidan walked around the now-empty table and nudged a few chairs back into their places with a booted foot before leaving the half-room to settle against a support beam in the observation deck. This was his space - a long held habit. After all, it afforded him a great view.

“Approaching the relay now, Major.”

As the Normandy decreased speed, the streaming line of iridescent stars separated and blinked, becoming white points of light with streaming ribbons trailing behind.

Still they slowed, and as the stars shortened their tails, it came into view. Large and looming, a scratched-out sigil adrift in space. With no light shining, the broken relay was a mere shadow against the starlight.

Brown eyes watched it pass. Where the points of light had passed by so quickly this thing wandered through space as a massive hulk. The sword was cracked in places, and shattered remnants rotated silently, lacking the momentum required for a true vector. Despite its meaning, the darkness of the relay gave Kaidan a sense of serenity, of certainty, even if not of the most encouraging sort.

He stood, lost in thought, and didn’t move when he felt a light hand on his arm. A quick glance, and he readjusted slightly to accommodate Liara’s head on his shoulder. They stood together in silence, watching the relay and watching the stars beyond.

“It doesn’t end well for us, does it?” came the whisper.

Careful not to jostle her, he shifted an arm to circle her shoulders. His answer did not come quickly. He thought, and tried to put context and hope into words that would fill the void the shadow caused, but the sight beyond the layers of polymer was too immense to grasp.

In the end, no answer came at all. So they stood in silence, watching the relay and watching the stars beyond.

\---

>>>Shadow Broker Console: Access

>>>Biometrics Recognized

Welcome, Dr. T’Soni. Establishing connection now.

>>> Input command: Search “Active Reapers”

No reaper activity reported in your area.

>>> Repeat: Search “Mass Relay System”

>>>Searching

>>>Searching

Information on current status of the Mass Relay System is unreliable. Travel advisories for this sector proscribe use of any functioning relays found as connections may be severed- [CANCEL]

>>> Repeat: Search “Agent Status”

No agents reporting in from this sector. Still seeking connection.

>>> Shadow Broker Console: Logout

\---

“We’re going nowhere!” Garrus raised his arms and let them fall, the gesture somehow made threatening by those talon-shaped fingers.

“That is not true, Garrus.” EDI’s voice was too calm for the room. It acted as a pressure, a brush of a touch – rubbed the wrong way. “My navigation systems are fully functional, and –“

“Shut up, EDI.” Even if she wasn’t physically present in the room, Kaidan waved a hand to silence her. The glow emanating from his palms threw shifting, watery shadows on the walls of the mess hall. 

“Hey, cool it, Blue!”

The comment earned Vega a bright glare, but the name was fitting. No familiar brown showed through Kaidan’s eyes – the blue suffused him, surrounded him in a rolling wave. But it was primarily directed at Garrus, and so to Garrus it returned.

“Don’t test me, Vakarian. You won’t like what you get.” 

“Oh?” Mandibles twitched. Garrus’ exhale could have been a growl. “I just think that you might actually get us somewhere if you took a second and got your head out of your ass.”

“That’s it!” The wave erupted, moving forward with a terrifying rush that hit Garrus full force. It would have knocked him against the bulkhead, and given the shaking in Kaidan’s hands, could have caused a few new dents in the hull.

But it didn’t. Instead, Garrus stopped short and floated suspended in the air. Surprised silence fell. Waited.

A door hissed closed and deliberate footsteps stomped echoes along the short hallway from the old XO quarters with an eldritch indigo light as their portent.

Liara did not look amused.

“This is how you deal with things?” she asked. The breathy notes of her voice soured. “ _ This _ is how you cope? After all this time?”

As Liara advanced on Kaidan, Garrus found himself released and lightly set on his feet. He took a moment, eyes shifting between human and asari and the walk down to the hall to the main battery. He jerked a chin to Vega and set off in that direction, disregarding the clamp his feet made on the floor. James followed, but turians could make great strides given the proper motivation and he broke into a jog to keep up. In a moment, the mess hall was empty save the asari and the human.

The asari stopped just short of Alenko’s nose and forced him to take a step back, to rebalance, though his biotic aura didn’t fade.

“We have all lived through this war. Somehow. All of us have seen its horrors and were changed by them. All of us are thinking day and night about what’s left of our worlds. Of the people we care about. And how far away they are right now.” Liara’s arm gestured back in the general direction of Thessia, getting further away as they left the Silean Nebula well behind. “We’re putting more distance from each of our homes to get to Earth and - “ her momentum faltered. Slowed.

“We’re all tired, Kaidan,” she sighed as she stepped back. Any glow remaining on her hands dissipated as she laid her forehead on tapered fingertips.

Kaidan exhaled a long-held breath and dropped into a chair, once again only human and not looking forward to the pressure headache that his outburst was going to cause.

“I’m sorry.” No one else he needed to apologize to was here anymore, but Liara was a good start. With nearly a year passed since their crash, tempers had worn through until nothing was left but holes. From deadlines and desperation, from every moment being important and meaningful, they were thrown into this life of anticipation. They had gone from being the head of the spear to a particle of dust that wandered in its wake. 

So much was still unknown - they had not received communications from the worlds they passed. No Reapers were evident, but the state of the war or its outcome was still a guess. The only conclusions that they could draw up to now were poor ones, both in quality and in tone. With the likelihood of a few more years of travel before they reached Earth, this was not the first anniversary they all wanted.

With the biotics gone from the room, the walls were again blank metal and fiber, catching and throwing back the low light scattered around the hall. From a space that buzzed with energy a moment ago, it now seemed like a great place, and a great time, for rest.

“Hey, Major,” Joker’s voice broke in over their heads, “Hell, everyone, you’re gonna want to see this.”

\--

The Reaper was dead in the water - utterly still in a pocket of blank space. With its legs splayed at odd angles, it looked somewhat like a hand hanging limp in sleep. Even this state didn’t dampen the sense of danger surrounding it, as if it would wake at some unknown provocation to resume its terrible purpose.

“Better to see one with all the lights out,” Garrus commented as he squeezed into the already-tight group of people at the helm. The display at the CIC was not good enough for anyone who had seen one of the machines in true form, or for any who so fervently wished each and every one utterly obliterated from existence. 

He caught Kaidan’s eye as the Major turned to greet him, and nodded in response to the hand he had set on Garrus’ armor. It was enough between old friends.

“You’ve seen one like this before?” Cortez asked, brows high.

“Yeah,” Kaidan answered, calculating and considering eyes back on the dead colossus, “they boarded it to get the Identify Friend Foe mechanism in order to pass through the Omega 4 relay. It might -”

“And while I’m still sure it was worth it,” Garrus interjected, “it’s not something I’d like to have to do again. Those things are creepy even when they’re dead.”

“‘Even a dead god can dream.’” Liara’s voice was a chilled recitation, and no one cared to ask where she had gotten the quote.

Husks crawling from every corner. Eerie recordings of a research crew slowly becoming indoctrinated, going mad. A sick sacrificial altar to the verb of “god.” A lone Geth’s scratched N7 shoulder guard gleaming brightly in the light of the core.

Tali’Zorah vehemently shook her head and waved off both memory and reaper. “Yes, let’s blow it up before someone tries to get something  _ useful _ out of it.”

Kaidan turned, checking the faces of the people he trusted most, and weighed the possibility of gathering anything useful that could aid them from the ship against the much-needed catharsis and safety that lay in exterminating even a single Reaper.

“Joker, any life signs on that ship?”

“None, and I put in my vote for pulling the trigger.”

“EDI?” 

“Confirmed. No life signs aboard, and its shields and mass effect core are offline.”

“Do it.”

The crew watched through windows, on the display, and on every console as cannons fired blasts of continuous light at the lingering shade in the silent vacuum of space. From the impact center, fragments began to appear, splitting off of the body in patches and pieces and chunks, surrounding the shadow in a glinting, glittering shower for the few moments before, with a blinding flash, the reaper hull split and shattered beyond all recognition.

The relief was palpable, and though cheers rang out here and there along the length of the ship, in the cockpit a more quiet sense of satisfaction reigned. Fights, scraps, and complaints forgotten for the moment, they smiled. 

It was enough.

\---

_ A heartbeat. _

_ Beating in time with pacing feet. A tap at the door. _

_ “It’s gonna be...what it is.” _

_ The heart constricts, and lungs freeze in an aching chest. _

_ The sheepish smile that brings bright light. _

_ Not all is unknown. _

\---

Kaidan stretched, reaching an arm out across the bed - and found nothing.

He wasn’t sure whether it was that confusion, or the light but persistent knock on the door that woke him.

Traynor jumped as the door slid open, though she had been standing there waiting for that very thing to happen. Her fingers picked at the frame of a datapad, but rather than offering it to Kaidan, she hugged it to herself.

“Sir, I’m sorry to wake you, but...”

Kaidan rubbed a palm against his forehead and willed his voice to come out clear of the slurring of sleep.

“What is it?”

“Sir I.... have someone waiting on vidcom for you. The signal’s not great, but” she paused, and rolled from the balls of her feet to stand steady on the soles that let a soft creak loose in the room, “I think it’s Admiral Hackett.” 

Now he could understand why she looked so pleased with herself. This would be the first communication those on the ship would have had in months with anyone outside the Normandy’s walls. Uncertainty didn’t exactly broker trust, and a blasted signal seeking survivors could have meant a certain few less in the final count.

A half-cocked smile lit his face, and he pushed off the wall and turned to finish getting dressed. “I’ll be right there. Don’t lose the signal!”

\---

The walk to the QEC had never seemed longer. Even though Traynor had delivered the message personally, and quietly, after so long together the lines of communication and gossip on the Normandy had reached unutterable perfection. So every eye followed Kaidan’s every step down every corridor of the ship. He suspected that they would have each and all followed him through the war room and into the small cubbyhole if he let them. As it was, he could hear a few shuffles and steps at the doorway and the susurrus of low-spoken voices behind him as he entered the communications room.

At the moment of his entrance, the platform beyond the console was empty, but something was already different about the room that had been abandoned for over a year - a green light blinked at the lower corner of the interface.

After a brief hesitation, he tapped the indicator and waited as the space above the blue disk pulsed and shuddered until the wavy outline of Admiral Hackett came into view. He wasn’t looking into the room, but off to the side, speaking to someone and gesturing as they scrambled on either side to make sound travel as well as sight.

Silence grew into static. More gesturing occurred until, finally, static broke into sound.

“-et it working then -”

“Admiral!”

Hackett turned, straightened and returned the salute. “Major, it’s good to see you alive and well.”

He nodded. “You too, sir. Don’t look too much the worse for wear.”

Even though they’d worked so hard to get the sound working, silence fell. But this wasn’t hardware failure. It wasn’t the planets and stars that spanned the distance between them causing interference. It was a questioning silence. An uncomfortable, itching, waiting silence. Answers were wished for, news was wanted for both sides, but the possibilities once again rushed in and were too hard to grasp.

So they each of them delayed until Hackett glanced in another direction, cleared his throat, and broke the spell.

“Ah, Major, before anything else, I have someone I think you’ll want to see.”

As his image vanished, it was replaced inch by inch by a pointed boot, a flip of long hair, an arm clad in skin-tight armor.

Kaidan did his best not to look disappointed when he recognized Miranda on the platform. While he had come to some kind of peace with Shepard’s work with Cerberus, and he had seen Miranda’s work to bring the Commander back to life and her subsequent work against her former employers, she was still an enigma. What he didn’t need right now was more conflict and more questions, both of which she seemed to offer in abundance.

From her gaze offscreen, Miranda’s eyes shifted to met Kaidan’s, and her unphased smirk made him wince. 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she scoffed, “it’s not me he’s talking about.”

As she came fully into view, those watching found that she was not alone, but was supporting a familiar arm, shoulder, and finally a very familiar face.

Leaning heavily on Miranda, and certainly much the worse for wear, stood Commander Shepard.

Shock froze Kaidan’s mouth, and the shout that would have come out was silent. 

He stood agape for a moment before remembering to breathe. Once he did, he remembered his posture, his manners, and that who-knew-else was watching, and snapped a smart salute.

But his greeting was an exhale, a release afforded by great relief, and he focused on Shepard’s face to keep the balance that eluded him as countless sleepless nights caught up with him all at once.

“Commander.”

The response was worth it, the smile that had always been so rare carried across lightyears. Even if it dimmed slightly with the effort Shepard put into his salute, it didn’t disappear.

“Major. At ease.” 

Kaidan’s ears were on overdrive, working in tandem with his imagination to filter out the static. To replicate the voice that he had never forgotten, that he had listened to on countless recordings in this span of time. Everything was there. Everything was clear. Everything was perfect.

“I knew you were alive, Shepard. It takes more than a big fight to take you down.”

“Actually, it almost did,” Miranda interjected matter-of-factly. “He was there for the first explosions on the Citadel and,” she squinted slightly at Shepard’s forehead, where even in the unstable image he could now see a thin, glowing line, “the implants malfunctioned. He’s lucky to be alive.”

“I promised to meet you after this was over, Kaidan,” he laughed, but quickly doubled over.

“Alright,” Miranda wasted no time, but hoisted Shepard’s arm back over her shoulders and turned him toward some unseen destination. She glanced behind before stepping out of view - “Sorry to break up the reunion, Major, but the Hero of the Galaxy needs to get back into bed.”

“I got it - we’ll talk later,” he finally got out. “And Miranda -- thanks.”

Arched brows rose almost imperceptibly. “You’re welcome.”

And they were gone. It was too quick a transition for the full effect of their lives, his life, to hit Kaidan, which was probably for the best.

“We were lucky she was here,” Hackett acknowledged as he stepped back into view, “once we were able to locate him and send a rescue team, she was able to use what experience and intel she had on Project Lazarus to get his implants running again.” He looked off into the middle distance, then back to Kaidan. “It’s been a rough year, but we’ve come out on top.”

Too many questions now raced through his mind, and most were too trivial, fleeting, or personal for this first contact in so long. So he asked the important one.

“What’s the status of the war, sir? Did the Crucible work?”

The nod was all he needed. “It did, and even if the Reapers did some damage with their deaths and many of the Relays took a hit, we don’t have to worry about them any more. What reports we’ve received from active contacts suggest that the blast took out Reapers in all systems.”

Eavesdropping was confirmed as whooping erupted in the war room, and Kaidan had to step closer to the console to hear Hackett over the new, joyful noise.

“I’ll expect a full report, Major, now that communications are back online. Do you have an ETA?”

Kaidan shook his head. “We passed the last relay for this system a few months ago. It was definitely offline.”

Hackett looked thoughtful for a minute. “Well, we know that there are a few still working, and you must be close enough for communications to be online. Though without a relay, you may still be a couple of years out.”

EDI’s voice sounded through the comm. “We are two years, four months, twenty-seven days, nine hours, and thirty-three minutes from the Sol relay assuming a logical and safe speed of travel.” A pause. “Give or take.”

‘Right, so, uh - we’ve still got some time to kill.”

“Well, get here as fast as you can, but keep your eyes open. I’ll send you the bulletins for active Cerberus cell activity and any other concerns soon.

“We’ll make sure to prepare for your homecoming, Major. It’s late to say it, and little for what the crew of the Normandy has done, but good work.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Hackett out.”

Kaidan turned, mind lost in a haze, and walked away from the now-empty vidcom room. If anyone spoke to him, touched him, or if the ship crashed right now, he would not have felt it. He would not even have noticed it - save for the light breeze of sudden atmospheric pressure.

Through well-traveled paths and with steady steps, Major Alenko strode with great purpose first to the hangar, then up to the crew deck.

Whatever the rest of the ship was doing, they could certainly have heard the clang of metal on metal that directly followed his exit from the lift.

It didn’t take long, and it was soon silent again, at least in his head. But at the end of it, they found him sitting on the floor of the observation deck, staring out at the passing stars, tracing lightly the letters beneath his fingertips. 

In his hand lay the metal nameplate that they had made for the Commander just before leaving the planet, and though the edges of the plate where it had attached to the wall were utterly savaged, Shepard’s name gleamed in the starlight, untouched.

\---

Kaidan studied the fuzzy outline of his hand against the flat gray of the Loft’s ceiling. The vision - or maybe the hand - swayed a little, back and forth, before he gave up and let his arm drop with a soft thump to his side on the sheet. The fish tank bubbled vaguely at him.

He laughed, and even the sound was blurry. Bleary? His sound and movement and existence were as a gleeful slurring of words. He thought that he could hear the stars whirring past outside - imagined that he could hear the party still raging in the mess hall, and cackled at the remembered image of Garrus dancing.

As he calmed, Kaidan became emphatically aware of the softness of the pillow behind his head. He closed his eyes and let his body relax with the sudden, certain, and somehow-hilarious notion that Shepard had been completely lying about the bed.

As he drifted to sleep, he finally felt a sense of space, of place again.

This was their home. This weapon. This secret ship that flitted around the galaxy like a ghost. They were the tip of the spear, bringing death and danger to the enemy that had threatened their existence. But they were gone now. And even though there were sure to be more dangers out there, for now he lay still, dazed and bleary-eyed, mind aimlessly wandering through happy memories and creative fantasies of what was to come, while his head was pointed unerringly towards home.

His voice was a sigh from sleep, and a long-awaited breath that filled the room with the sound of a life.

“Thank you.”

  
  



End file.
